


4 AM

by Shippershape



Series: Stretch & Dr. Goodkin [23]
Category: Stitchers (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Insomnia, kirsten is a weirdo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 12:17:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4746200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shippershape/pseuds/Shippershape
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cameron can't sleep, and he finds a surprise on his doorstep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	4 AM

Cameron can’t sleep. He’s been tossing and turning for hours, growing increasingly frustrated as the numbers on his clock climb higher. Finally, around four am, he flings back his sheets, shuffling out of bed. It seems he isn’t going to get any sleep, so he tugs a hoodie on over his bare chest, and decides to head down to the 24 hour newsstand on the corner and see if they’ve gotten in the new issue of Scientific American. Flipping the lock, he opens his front door, and lets out a startled cry as a body comes tumbling in at his feet.

“WHAT-” He screams, then squints at the blonde mess at his feet. That groan sounds suspiciously familiar. “Kirsten?!”

She pushes herself to her feet, glaring at him and rubbing her elbow. She’s wearing a pair of plaid pajama bottoms along with a hoodie almost identical to his own. There are dark circles under her eyes, and her hair is tied up in a messy bun.

“What the hell is going on?” He asks, gaping at her in confusion. His heart is still hammering painfully in his chest, and he presses his hand against his sternum.

“I couldn’t sleep.” She says, as if that explains what on earth she was doing sitting against his front door at four in the morning.

“I…” Cameron just continues to stare at her, still in shock. “So…why didn’t you just knock?” He asks. Something suddenly occurs to him. “How long have you been out there?”

She frowns at him.

“I don’t know.” She says, giving him a meaningful look.

“Ah.” He nods. “Right. Well… come in I guess.” He steps back to let her in, still half convinced this whole thing is a dream. She walks past him into the living room, flopping down on the couch.

“I left the house at-” She glances at her phone. “-one thirty.”

“Wh-So you’ve been sitting out there for two hours? How did you even get here?” He asks, sitting down beside her.

“I walked.” She leans back against the arm rest, closing her eyes. Deciding that this line of questioning isn’t really getting him anywhere, Cameron sighs.

“Why’d you come _here_?” He eyes her warily.

“I had a bad dream, just wanted to make sure you were alright.” She says. His head is beginning to hurt.

“Okay, so once again, why didn’t you just knock?” She shrugs.

“Once I got here I realized how late it was, and I didn’t want to wake you up.”

He tugs her feet into his lap, playing with a piece of fuzz on her sock. She squirms, and he makes a mental note that she’s ticklish.

“So you sat in the hallway, in the dark, for two hours.” He says, just to confirm. She nods. “It must be tiring to be you, Stretch.”

She pokes him with her toe.

“Well where were you going? Obviously I wasn’t the only one up.” She mutters, opening one eye.

“I couldn’t sleep either. I was going to go buy a magazine.” He admits.

“Chart & Scope?” She asks, remembering one of their previous cases. He laughs.

“No. Scientific American.”

She snorts.

“You’re such a nerd.” But there’s affection in her voice, so he just runs his finger along the arch of her foot, grinning when she squirms again. Yanking it out of his reach, she flips around, resting her head on his chest instead. He’s surprised, but maybe she’s even more sleep deprived than he is.

“What was your dream about?” He wonders, gently twirling a piece of her hair between his fingers. She yawns.

“The usual. You stopped your heart, you never woke up.” Her voice is beginning to slur with sleep. “Why is it so warm in here?”

“Oh, my AC’s out.” Cameron says, and she’s right, the arid LA heat mixed with her proximity have him sweating under his sweatshirt. He shifts just enough to tug it off, and she does the same, then presses her face to his bare chest.

They lay like that for a while, content just to be.

“I can hear your heart.” She mumbles, after a while. He runs his thumb lightly down the length of her arm.

“What’s it saying, Lurker?” He asks, amused by how out of it she seems to be.

“Bu-bump. Bu-bump. Bu-bump.” She murmurs, lips moving against his skin. He grins.

“Go to sleep. We can talk about your little stakeout tomorrow.” He says. She sighs her consent, and he closes his eyes. By a miraculous stroke of luck, the next day is their day off. They sleep through half the day, waking well after two in the afternoon. It’s the best sleep he’s ever had, and by the sudden disappearance of her dark circles, he’s guessing she slept pretty well too.

He gives her a key, just in case she decides to hang out in his hallway again. She uses it almost every night.

 

 

 

 


End file.
